“Lived here long? I should say so. Been nearly a hundred years in this exact spot. It’s a nice neighborhood, low-turnover. Good place to settle down.

“Oh, I used to be a bit of a rover, you know. I grew up on the mountain side, respectable as anything, but I got a little wild in my teens. Turned into a real alluvial fanboy, I did, always waiting for the next big storm. When the the rain came down in torrents and you could feel the earth getting heavy around you, man, those were the days! And then, whoosh, down the slope you’d go, to a new neighborhood with new neighbors. That wasn’t every storm of course, but it was a thrill when it happened.

“How often? Oh, about every thirty years or so. There’d be a fire across the mountain, and we’d all start saying our goodbyes, waiting for the next winter’s mudslides and the next big adventure.

“I gotta tell you, it started to wear on me after a while. I’m not the stone I was when I was a kid, not anymore. No, this is better.

“Changes? Well, I suppose the biggest change I’ve seen since I settled here was when the bricks moved in. Back in the early ’60’s that was. I was standoffish at first—they looked so different, don’t you know, with that red color and the weird way they wear their mortar. But I take people as they come, mostly, and I’m glad to say they’ve been solid neighbors, every one of them. They’ve stood up for me, and I’ll stand up for them. That’s the way it is.”